


Untold

by sunflowerbright



Series: Day by Drabble [32]
Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:04:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerbright/pseuds/sunflowerbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marian is afraid of storms</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untold

**Author's Note:**

> Blue Skies prompt #21 (storm)

It’s quiet. And she doesn’t like it.

“It’s the calm before a storm,” She tells him, trying to sound brave, on top of the situation, when really all she wishes to do is crawl under the covers and hide. Not even his arm around her makes her feel safer, despite the reassuring and usually so comforting weight.

And just like that, rain starts pouring down, hammering on the roof and against the windows, a loud orchestra of _wildness_ and she flinches, unable to help herself and _cringes_ , because now he knows, how small and insignificant and _vulnerable_ things like these – nature running wild – makes her feel.

She can see the surprise on his face even in the dark, the widening of eyes and then he frowns, peering down at where she’s trying to hide behind her hair.

“Marian… don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little rain,” he says and sounds more disbelieving than condescending, something she is eternally grateful for.

No sooner has the words left his mouth, than a flash lights up the bedroom and a booming sound follows from the outside, too loud to have been very far away. She can’t help the exclamation of fright that passes her lips, her mind screaming at her of how pathetic she is.

“I _don’t_ like storms, Guy.” She hisses, face hidden in the crook of his neck now, as if the fear would somehow go away if she could just get close enough to his steady warmth.

“That’s not it,” he mutters, his arms tightening around her and she briefly lets herself relish in the fact that he sounds so _worried._ “No one likes storms. But you’re terrified.”

The denial is hovering on the edge of her tongue, an instant wish to fight for her pride – she’s not some damsel, for God’s sake, some dainty princess to be held and soothed and consoled at the least of troubles. But it would be ridiculous to deny it, especially when she’s still trying to press herself impossibly closer to him.

There’s a long silence, his words floating heavy in the air around her: he doesn’t repeat them, but she knows he’s waiting for an answer.

“It stormed when my mother died,” she says, breaking the silence with a truth she has never spoken of before, to anyone. She isn’t sure if she feels better or worse for saying it out loud, for flaunting something rooted deep within her around for everyone to see.

Only, it isn’t for everyone. It’s just him. And when he hugs her even closer, not saying a word to make her feel better or worse, she thinks that maybe it’s a good thing she did say it.


End file.
